[In the aftermath of Marco's death and his own decision to make good on his spat threats, it is the bonfire that draws him near. The bonfire and all of its wood, a few stacks poking upward like fence poles to frame the flames. The wood is sharp, and it's there, and with a muffled hiss the head is slammed upon one of them, one hand pushing it down and the other shoving the stake upward to better hold it balanced.

Miraculously enough Marco's glasses still sit askew on the face, droplets of venom staining the glass.

And with slowly calming breaths, he can finally bring himself down to 'earth', looking to the face while blood crusts over his hands. It's strange.

After all this, he can't well say he even remotely feels like 'taking it back'. Turning his eyes toward the flames, he speaks:]

...If he was as much of a pain to me as I've found, then I don't doubt he was beginning to prove himself an irritating thorn in your side.

With any luck, this will quiet his mouth for a while.

[...There is a pause. And taking the stake the head has been set upon, he removes it from the wood pile, before properly setting it into the ground. If he is taking this path he is taking it wholeheartedly. If he is taking this path he will no longer hide behind excuses and indecision like those who he scattered to the winds. He may be 'human' rather than 'machine', but if this is 'evil' then so be it.

The 'good ones', as of late, have acted so much worse.

The basilisk bows.] ...Consider this a dedication.

I've made my decision.